


More

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Begging, Come Inflation, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), M/M, Playful Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 10:03:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19990318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Crowley's angel is demanding.





	More

“More,” Aziraphale says breathlessly after Crowley kisses him the first time, when Crowley has his hands on Aziraphale’s hips, his fingers pressing into the plush give of the flesh there, and Crowley laughs against his mouth, brushes their noses against one another. Aziraphale grabs him by his arse and tugs him closer, so that he falls against the angel’s chest, is forced to lean down so that he can squeeze him tighter. “ _More!”_

“Demanding,” Crowley says, his forked tongue flicking over his lower lip and making Aziraphale gasp and then laugh, his palm clapping down hard against Crowley’s arse, leaving a stinging pain that makes Crowley grind his hips up against Aziraphale. “What is it you want, angel? Hm? What can I give you?”

“ _Everything_ ,” Aziraphale says, his blue eyes bright and shining, their watery colour deeper than Crowley ever imagined, up close as they are like this.

“Okay, angel,” Crowley purrs. “All for you.”

\--

“More,” Aziraphale moans as Crowley’s tongue slides over his nipple, laving around it in a smooth, easy circle, coaxing the pink nub into a peak, and Aziraphale’s hands tangle in Crowley’s hair, gripping so tightly at the dark locks that it pulls at his scalp, and Crowley gives a playful graze of his teeth.

Aziraphale gasps out a choked little noise, his legs spreading, his hips tipping up to meet Crowley’s.

“More!”

“Yesss,” Crowley hisses, dragging his tongue down Aziraphale’s belly and delighting at the way the muscles twitch under his mouth. “More.”

\--

“ _More_ ,” Aziraphale begs, and Crowley doesn’t lift his mouth from Aziraphale’s cock, still bobbing his head, sucking as he takes Aziraphale’s prick right into his throat, letting it hilt right up against his lips, and his fingers play back and forth over Aziraphale’s deliciously fat thighs, squeezing at them.

Aziraphale’s hips jump as Crowley swallows, and he cries again, “More! _More!”_

Crowley hums, and feels deep satisfaction at the moan Aziraphale releases.

\--

“More,” Aziraphale whimpers.

“Thicker?” Crowley asks, shifting the angle of his cock in Aziraphale’s arse, but he doesn’t tear his gaze away to look at Aziraphale’s face, keeping his gaze on the spread of Aziraphale’s pink rim ass it stretches around him, and fuck, how it _clenches_ as Crowley’s cock widens at the base.

“ _Yes!”_

Crowley twists his hips, and Aziraphale wails, and the _noise_ , the noise of it, it goes right through Crowley like a shot, making him hiss in delight.

“ _More!”_

“Longer?”

“ _Yes!”_

“Harder?”

“Crowley!”

Aziraphale grabs him by the back of the neck, hauling him down, and he flips them in one sharp and sudden movement, shoving Crowley onto his back so that he can stuff himself full of Crowley’s cock. Crowley is spellbound as he stares up at his angel, at the glossy, dewy glow of sweat on his cheeks and his chest, the redness in his cheeks, over his breast, his parted lips, his closed eyes, the way his head is tipped back in pleasure…

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says achingly, his hands on Crowley’s chest, and Crowley reaches up, grabbing Aziraphale’s chest and gently squeezing each of his breasts, his thumbs flicking over the nipples there and making Aziraphale’s breath hitch.

“Let me guess, angel,” Crowley says, rolling his hips up and watching Aziraphale’s cock jump between their bellies, watching its head bop. “Starts with an M, ends in an E?”

“ _Please_ ,” Aziraphale moans.

“Well,” Crowley purrs. “If you’re going to be _nice_ about it…”

\--

Aziraphale’s belly is swollen.

Crowley can’t tear his gaze away from it in the mirror across from the bed, the fat, heavy paunch of it, heavy where it hangs beneath him, and Crowley puts his hands on the swell, squeezing and listening to Aziraphale’s sharp little whine.

The word is muffled.

“What’sss that, angel?” Crowley asks, leaning and hissing in the angel’s ear, pressing down on the taut flesh and hearing his come slosh inside, feeling Aziraphale’s body shudder. “Say it, sweetheart. Let me hear my greedy little darling’s demands.”

“Crowley, _please_ ,” Aziraphale moans, and Crowley nips the lobe of his ear, feeling his body arch. He watches Aziraphale’s face in the mirror, the way he grits his teeth, his lips pressed together, and then the smirk of his lips, the way he meets Crowley’s gaze, his chin tipping up. There’s such want in his eyes that Crowley feels like he might crumble.

“Please…?”

“ _More_ ,” Aziraphale gasps out, and Crowley laughs as he speeds up the rolls of his hips.


End file.
